


Shut your Mouth!

by thefallenballerina



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Bookstore AU, M/M, Record store au, bisexual!dean, gay!cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 19:04:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2592857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefallenballerina/pseuds/thefallenballerina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>based off of the prompt: "AU where Cas owns a bookshop and Dean owns the record store right next to it, they hate each other for neighborly reasons until one day they're arguing and Cas tells dean to shut up..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shut your Mouth!

**Author's Note:**

> so this is the first work I'm posting on this site, feedback is always welcome!

I sighed and flipped through the endless cardboard sleeves of the vinyls. _fwp, fwp, fwp_. My fingers easily flicking over the covers, trying to find the Fs, we really needed a better organization system. Finally I came across the familiar double-sided artwork of Save Rock and Roll, slipping the returned copy in between that and a lonely Folie a Deux, kids thought that buying actual records of albums made them cool, but they just looked stuck up and snotty.

I trudged through the rest of the aisle and took my eternal place at the cash register, glancing over today’s newspaper on the desk. Nothing but nothing. This backwater town had nothing going for it, save for the next door neighbor, Cas, who owned the used bookshop next to my store. My God, his eyes were so bright and intense and I just couldn't help but return to the distraction of imagining what his stubble would feel like against my skin.

The bell above the door jangled irritatingly and a group of nearly identical teenagers walked in, after a while they all started to look the same. They wandered around for a few minutes, effectively doing nothing, until one of them whined to change the music ringing through the store, it was too slow and sad for them. I complied wordlessly, switching the record out for a perkier, but definitely meaningless one apathetically.

Just then I heard three sharp knocks on the door directly across from the desk, the door connecting mine and Cas’s respective stores. He stuck his head through, and shouted “Hey, assbutt! Turn the music down, my customers are trying to read!” 

“Ever heard of rock n’ roll, princess? Tell your customers to suck it up or get thicker walls, it’s not my problem!” It flew out of my mouth before I could help it, this guy got under my skin and provoked the anger bubbling in my stomach now. Nearly all of our interactions were like this, always pissed off at each other for some reason or another. He sighed in exasperation, rolling his eyes before shutting the door quickly with a snap. I don’t think we had ever actually had a real, pleasant conversation. But I digress, the burning in my face and stomach remained even from his brief, bitter visit. I leaned my head into my hands, rubbing my eyes with the heels of my thumbs.

The shop bell jingles again this time its a singular boy, in a black smock and spray painted on black jeans. He kept his head bent towards his chest as he shuffled through to the middle isle, obviously looking for something specific. He was being stared at by the group of guys that had walked in earlier, all conversation stilled.

After flipping through the Ls a minute (still being ogled at like an animal in a zoo) and extracting the record he was looking for, he shuffled up to the counter with an uncomfortable expression on his face.

I rang up his album on autopilot until I realized it was some ridiculous Lady Gaga vinyl. I glanced up at the kid. Obviously styled brown curls, pierced ears, lipgloss-shined mouth, eyeliner rimmed eyes. This kid was obviously gay, and was currently biting his lip and smirking at me like he knew every little secret I had. I cleared my throat as I bagged up the record, effectively breaking out eye contact. No way I would look twice at that kid. No way I think about someone that _out_. Only my brother knew that I liked men as well as women, and I planned to keep it that way.

****He looked down at his hands, obviously embarrassed. “Have a nice day,” I muttered automatically. He jerked his head in a nod and left quickly.

One of the group from earlier snickered and rolled his eyes, “Fucking faggot,”

“You can stop being a little shit and take that back, or get out of my shop, take your pick.” I snapped.

“Whatever, man,” He mumbled as him and his buddies scuffed out the door. I leaned forward and rested my forehead on my arms, heaving a deep sigh.

My head jerked up at the sound of a dry throat clearing across the room. Cas. “And what could you possibly want?” I droned tiredly.

****He closed his eyes and shook his head, echoing my sigh from earlier before withdrawing his head from the cracked door frame. Weird, what was that about?

The record soon ended and the shop quieted. That was the reason I always had a album playing, the silence made my skin crawl. I switched the finished vinyl for another at random, some overworked indie mix nobody’s ever heard of.

****The shop bell twanged and I didn't bother looking up, returning to the paper. **  
**

“Hey, I happen to need directions to the nearest hipster music shop.” My head lifted at the familiar voice, grinning up at my brother easily.

“Bitch,” I beamed, crossing to the front of the desk to greet him.

“Jerk,” He returned affectionately, pulling me in for a quick hug. I pulled away after a few seconds, muttering about chick flick moments.

“So what are you doing all this way away from Stanford? Classes and dorms getting too boring?” I teased.

****“Well, term just ended and I figured I’d pay my brother a visit, maybe sleep on your couch for a few days?” He blinked hopefully.  
 ****

“Yeah, sure, anytime. Anytime.” I smiled at my little (bigger than me) brother, my first real smile in weeks. Having him here was like having a weight lifted off my shoulders, like I could breath easier with Sammy here.

So he joined me in the daily grind, helping me organize the records alphabetically while regaling me with tales from Stanford, everything from his roommate’s snobby girlfriend to the teacher who hated kids to the weird cafeteria food, and how ordering pizza nearly every night gets really old, really fast while I just sat back and smiled. College suited him. Intelligence in general suited him. I was so proud. College. Stanford, even. I still remembered him as an awkward teenager.

“Speaking of, isn't it lunch time right about now?” He said, glancing up at me from his work.

“Whenever, really, a perk of working for yourself, you decide when lunch break is.”

“Right, and what do we do for lunch here at Winchester’s?” He smirked, teasing the shop’s name.

“Well, within walking distance there is a dinner, 2 Asian places, 2 pizza shops, and a sub shop. Your choice.”

He made a face, “Is there anything remotely healthy within a 5-mile radius of this place?”

I grinned, I knew that’d be his reaction. “Probably, I just haven't bothered looking for it yet.”

“Of course,” He said sarcastically, shaking his head with disdain. “I’ll definitely be making some changes around here,” He sighed with mock-pity.

****I grinned and nodded, giving him directions and the name of the sub shop down the street. “It’s got this big yellow and orange sign out front, you can’t miss it.”  
 ****

“Right, and what do you want?” I reeled off my order, then instructed him to go to the dinner across the street for pie. He jotted it down on a torn piece of paper on the desk. “Mh-hmm,” He hummed in response.

****“Thanks,” I quirked a smile, just being around Sammy made me happy, even when it felt like everything was getting worse.  
 ****

I still hadn’t told him about Cas, I had a feeling he’d try to nod sportingly while making one of his “extremely- uncomfortable-and-mildly-distressed” looks.

Speak of the devil, I heard the three tell-tale sharp knocks on the connecting door, immediately followed by Cas’s head poking through and a rush of blood to my face.

****“Three visits in one day, it must be Christmas.” I said dryly.  
 ****

Instead of responding with some snappish comment, he asked, “Who's this?” and nodded at Sam.

He had never acknowledged any of my customers before. Nevertheless, there is a first time for everything. Maybe this was his way of trying to make peace. “Cas, this is my brother Sam. Sam, this is my neighbor Cas, he owns the used book store, _Ink & Paper_ next door.” 

****“Hi.” Cas said, completely blank.  
 ****

“Hey,” Sam returned, looking between us uncomfortably. Here we go. “Uh-well- I’ll just- leave you to it then, see you in a minute,” He stammered out the poor attempt at nonchalance, making his exit so quickly he nearly ran into the door. Smooth.

I turned back to Cas, intent on finding out what he wanted earlier. Unfortunately, he beat me to the punch. “This was the fourth time this week I've had to ask you to turn the music down, the shared wall is thin, I can hear everything that goes on here- I’m just asking for a little consideration-”

Heat washed over my face, blood ringing in my ears. I took a few steps forward. “You stick your nosy ass in here five times a day and you’re asking for consideration?”

He took two steps forward, directly in front of me now. “It’s not outrageous, I find it suitable.” Sharp annoyance was leaking into his voice. Good.

“You find it ‘suitable’ that a music store shouldn't play music? That’s bullshit.” I snapped. He was really close now, when had that happened? My breathing was getting tight, my stomach jumping with every heavy beat of my heart.

“You’re shoving words in my mouth now! _I never said that._ ” His eyes were screwed shut now, his voice tight and brittle. He was close to cracking. What exactly that meant, I didn't know. but I would sure as hell find out. It would be so disappointing if he just stormed out now.

It was childish, sure, but now I wasn't angry. I just wanted to push his buttons and see where it took us.

I let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Really, Cas? Because that’s sure as shit what it sounds like-”

“Shut your mouth!” He’s finally yelling but I’m on a roll.

I scoffed, “Why don’t you make me?!”

Everything stops.   
****

I see it almost in slow motion. His foot wedges between mine, and suddenly we are chest to chest. the side of my nose brushing his, our eyelids sliding shut.

I breath in heavily and I’m drowning in his scent. Cinnamon toothpaste and soapy soft after shave and clean, worn clothes.

His hands are rough but his skin is soft when he grabs my sides, pressing close. Closer. His breath is melting in my mouth and my brain has gone through a blender.

****I thought I already had it bad. Well. That was before he caught my bottom lip between his teeth. He twisted and pulled, clearly trying to evoke a response, but I was still frozen.  
 ****

He wasn't done. His hands traced feverishly up my chest, his right curling up to tangle in my hair and left to rest on the side of my neck, he used the leverage to pull my head down and crash his lips to mine.

I was gasping and overwhelmed, all I could feel or think or breath was Cas. We kiss like a fist fight, messy and ungraceful, dirty and unplanned. He’s _everywhere_. I can’t keep track of where his hands are, much less mine. I barely noticed what I was doing until I was clutching at his shirt, one hand wrinkling the clean white cotton as I held on to him for dear life and the other tugging at his tie desperately. A tie? He was a store clerk and he dressed like he had an office job.

****Cas was getting frantic now, pushing me towards the desk but I pushed back, refusing to become so submissive. I whined when my lower back hit the edge of the desk. I hated losing control but something was telling me I physically couldn't hate anything having to do with Cas. His breath is hitching and I’m eating out of the palm of his hand and our teeth are clacking and the sound is hideous but its like music.  
 ****

On the record player, Carry on my Wayward Son blares.

****The bell above the shop door is annoying. Its obnoxious. I hate the constant jangling and the creaking door hinges almost as much as Sam hates Tuesdays. The bell rings every time a customer goes in or out, so I've been hearing that sound two dozen times a day for the past three years. After the first few months, it just fades into the background as another noise of life in the shop like the creaky pipes or flickering light. After a few years, I’m practically deaf to the sound. Thank God Cas wasn't.

I groaned- I actually groaned when he suddenly jumped away from me and now he’s ten feet away and we’re both gasping, my hands have stretched out on their own trying to chase something that just isn't there. In the split second I realized this, they slapped down on my thighs with a pathetic smack.   
****

“So get this,” Sam started, taking a half- step into the shop, but instantly falling silent as he took in the scene in front of him.

****Cas, my previously established annoying neighbor, standing obviously too far away to be having a conversation, both of us with mussed hair and rumpled clothes, out of breath and avoiding each others’ eyes. What a pair we must make.  
 ****

Sam visibly cringed at the situation, clearly misinterpreting what exactly he had walked in on. “Oh. Uh. I can- I can come back, you know. Later. I can come back -later- you know. Um. Bye.”  He twisted away, tried to pull the labeled PUSH bar on the door, and gave a muttered curse before I calmed down enough for words.

****“No-no- you don’t. Cas was- Cas was just leaving.” My voice was jumpy and vaguely terrified, it sounds strangled even to me.  
  
I glanced back at Cas, who looked just as rumpled and uncomfortable as I felt. Thankfully, he nodded, saying “Yes. Goodbye.”  before turning stiffly and walking straight-legged to the adjoining door and slamming the door shut behind him.   
****

Sam cleared his throat loudly. “Well, that was-”

“I don’t even want to hear it.”   
****

Time waits for no man, so it inevitably passed for me and Sam.

Days pass. There isn't a single peep from next door. I’m not thinking about him.

****A week and not a sound, not a knock. Sam sleeps on my couch in my apartment above the shop. We eat and work together and we don’t talk about it. My thoughts stray to crystal blue eyes and Cinnamon toothpaste when I’m not paying attention. I’m still not thinking about him.  
 ****

Four days before Sam was due to leave, I heard a loud thunk on the shared wall to the left of the door, as if something heavy had hit it. Seconds later, a black haired kid stormed out the door and down the street, furiously fixing his clothes and hair, face flushed and embarrassed. Hm.

****Two days later I was startled out of a stupor by three sharp raps on the door and my heart and stomach fighting for space in my throat and my heart doing jumping jacks before his head even popped through. I instantly sat up straighter and inhaled deeply, prepared for a shouting match. I opened my mouth to return whatever he had to throw at me, but he had all my armor instantly dismantled with one sentence.  
 ****

“Be my boyfriend.” It wasn't a question.   
****

“Where the hell did that come from?” Flew out before I could stop it. My voice sounded too loud in my own ears.

****“You heard me. It came from last week, I thought that would be obvious.” He wasn't angry or annoyed, he was stating facts.

“You want me to be your boyfriend?” I asked, incredulously.   
****

“That is what I have been saying, yes.” Again, not irritated, factual.   
  
And the really weird thing was, I could see that. Us. I could wake up curled around him and watch him shave in the mirror next to me in the morning. I could get used to this quirky bastard.  
  
“I- yeah. Yeah. Okay. Sure.” I said slowly, testing the words.

“Good.” He nodded solemnly and withdrew his head from the gap, closing the door behind him.

Had that just happened? I blinked and shook my head quickly, trying to make sure that I wasn’t asleep. I was relatively sure I was awake, though that didn’t count for much.

“What was that?”

I jumped again and spun around at Sam’s voice and found him standing in the doorway leading to the back room. I had no idea what he had seen or heard.

“I have a boyfriend now.” I stated numbly, my voice was a stranger’s. My brain wasn’t in my head. Confusion was in the rear view mirror, I was dazed.

Sam looked like I felt.

We turned simultaneously at the sound of the connecting door being pushed open with no precluding knocks. Cas again, staring intently at me. “If you _are_ my boyfriend, you should come to have lunch with me.”

****I blinked, a slow smile coming out of nowhere. “Sounds good,” I managed, before crossing the threshold between the two shops to be swallowed by the scent of old paper.  
 ****

Just before the door closed, I heard Sam’s voice. “Good for you,” I could hear his smile. Maybe he was uncomfortable, but he was my brother first.

The door shuts softly behind us as we walk into completely new lives.

_end._


End file.
